


never promise

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Emotions, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Present Tense, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The world is at war, yet Spot's concerns lay on his own front doorstep





	never promise

Spot doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the fire before a knock jolts him from his thoughts. 

Lost in past memories, Spot shakes himself, approaching the door at a steady pace. He can’t imagine who it would be at this hour, his friends having dispersed over the years. It’s been a lonely life, but then again, Spot has allowed so much of his life to fall to the wayside.

When he opens the door, Spot almost wishes he hadn’t as he stares at an all too familiar face.

“I know it’s late,” Racetrack starts, his arm wrapped around the woman next to him. 

Spot can see her pregnant stomach, but more than that, it’s their shallow faces that strike him, as if both are on their last legs. 

“We’ve been evicted,” Race states, his eyes barely meeting Spot’s. 

Without hesitation, Spot steps back to let them in, watching as Race sets the woman in a chair near the fireplace. He doesn’t recognize her, no matter how much he searches his memory. Knowing Race, he and the woman probably met just the year before.

“Can I make tea?”

Spot is slow to nod, leading Race into the kitchen and setting up the kettle. It’s a tense silence between the two of them, but Spot doesn’t want to be the one to make the first move. 

“I lost my job,” Race’s voice cracks. “Everything that could go wrong has. I don’t want to enlist. Not with Alice so close.”

“How far is she?” Spot interrupts, his gaze focused on the kettle.

“Eight months.” Race’s voice is comparable to a day after hawking headlines and Spot is taken to the past. 

Days at Sheepshead, the strike of 1899, time couldn’t have flown by as it has, but Spot notes the aging on his hands, a frown plastered on his face. 

“How are you?” 

Spot doesn’t know how to answer. Where to even start. Race has been gone for so long, Spot can only speculate how Race found him. Then again, with all his connections over New York, Spot wonders if it would’ve been best for him to follow Jack and David out west. 

“Just waiting for the army to show up at my door,” Spot replies with brutal honesty. “I’m surprised I’ve avoided them this long.”

Race nods his understanding, his hand moving towards Spot’s arm. Spot moves back, holding his breath as he goes in search of mugs. 

Of all times for Race to show up, with a woman no less. It’s as if life is playing cruel tricks on Spot, making him pay for some past mistake. But it wasn’t him who disappeared out of the blue. He hadn’t made Race fall in love with him only to back out at the last second.

“I was scared.”

Spot bites the inside of his cheek. “We could’ve talked.”

Race is silent then, accepting Spot’s truth. Yes, they had only been teenagers, but Spot had thought them more than that. More than what society boxed them into. 

“Spot,” Race begins again and Spot shivers at the old nickname.

“You should see to Alice,” he pours the water, handing Race two cups. He doesn’t dare meet Race’s eyes, too afraid he might cave in at what he sees.

“We’re not married,” Race states. 

Spot wants to laugh, but he steels himself, shaking his head. “Don’t try to fix the past, Racetrack.” The words are laced with a tight edge and Spot hopes they hit their mark. “She’s carrying your child. She needs you. What we were...it’s over.”

Race lingers for a moment before he takes the cups and heads back into the living room. 

Spot doesn’t follow. 

Instead, he stares out the window, at the bricks that lay across the way. He can hear the murmurs between Race and Alice, but he doesn’t try to make out their words. 

He hates how his heart aches, that he wishes it was him and Race in front of the fire trying to figure out the world they were in. Things were so simple when they were newsies. Spot almost wishes his last days had been in the lodging house rather than stumbling through his so called life. 

It would only be a matter of time however, when he and Race would both end up on the other side of the world, fighting in one last battle. 

As much as Spot holds onto his hatred for Race, he knows that if they’re assigned to the same regiment, Spot will protect Race with his life. He has no doubts that Race will follow suite and for a moment, the future doesn’t look as bleak. 

Yes, they may die, Race has his family to tend to, but perhaps they’ll be allowed one more chance. They’ll forgive and grow into something better than a tumultuous past. 

When Race enters the kitchen, his eyes stuck on Spot, Spot doesn’t turn away and instead accepts the hands that grab hold of his, the morning far from both of their minds.

**Author's Note:**

> whoa hey
> 
> [Tumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
